#sold for $350

[squidinkarchives]

Fish Shaped Bird Cage, Vintage 18" x 27.25" x 12.5" Source: Glendale, AZ EJ's Auction & Appraisal

[henrysglock]

honestly seeing tfs like ten times doesn’t make you better or more knowledgeable than anyone else (particularly when you have seen it so many times and can’t even get the point of the play right or just outright lie about or misinterpret things that happened. why does it feel like you want henry to be assaulted so badly?) especially if you say the synopsis is enough, and also that’s kinda unfair to other people wanting to see the play like booking out 3 or 4 performances at a time? what the last anon said, not everybody is that privileged. some people are lucky to see it once if at all, you may have taken the only opportunity someone had by seeing it multiple times

normal people: hi, how are you?

[userkoo]

i can’t believe it’s 2024 and we still don’t have restrictions on ticket resell prices in the US

[bothsidesnow2000]

Unemployed people of tumblr how do you spend your day??

[andthebubbles]

I CAN'T BELIEVE 3000 PEOPLE ON EU BOUGHT WTE 100 FOR 100K GOLD SKJFNGKJGN?????????????????

[trixibebe]

Sometimes when I talk about prices I just remain at Forint. Idc do the calculations yourself.

[demonio-fleurs]

i am doing work from home stuff since i may have caught a nasty infection from my fiancee, and he is getting a first hand look at what it's like pricing out rare games/consoles

it's frustrating

[s-lycopersicum]

This is an imperfect "experiment" over a complex subject, but it's a thing I like to do to visualize the sheer gap between the dollar and the brazilian real, which is checking "how many federal minimum wage hours would take to buy a thing". It goes like this:

Under the US federal minimum wage of USD 7.25 per hour, a copy of Sid Meier's Civilization VI on Steam (priced at USD 59.99) would come around at 8.2 hours.

That same game is sold on Brazil at BRL 129.00. At the current federal minimum wage of BRL 6.90 per hour, that comes around at 18.6 hours.

That is, however, after the publisher has already applied Steam's dynamic pricing to lower the cost of the game for our region. At its full dollar price, the game would cost around BRL 350, being generous with the conversion rate. How many federal minimum wage hours do you think that is?

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes Episode 9: Farm Work

Find the rest of the stories here!

CWs: Noncon; kidnap; lactation play; transformation; restraints; corruption; forced impregnation; forced tf; bondage; probably a dozen things I've missed

Author's note: I'm really not kidding when I say you can help by giving me ideas! Want me to write about something? Drop me an ask or a DM! I'll probably get around to it in the next 350+ days!

######################################

Maybe you stayed out a little late? Maybe you were in the wrong place at the wrong time? All you know is you got jumped.

It was on the way home after work, you hadn't noticed them get off the train behind you, hadn't heard them gaining on you. You only noticed them when the chemical-smelling rag was pressed against your face, and the world went dark.

You woke up already naked and sweaty. Your arms were bound down your back, forcing your chest to push out, showing off your tits in the half-light. You could hear shouting in the next room, then everyone went quiet quiet as a voice called out 

"Next is lot 35, female, mid 20's, recently acquired"

They pushed you forwards and you stumbled, your ankles tied so you could only take small, hobbling steps, your bare feet numb on the cold concrete floor.

You emerged through the door into a spotlight. Blinking against the light you could see the room was full of people but you couldn't see any faces. 

Everyone could see you, bare, glistening, unable to cover yourself. You cowered away from their gaze, and yelped when a man hit you across the buttocks with a cane.

The auctioneer started the bidding, calling out numbers and taking bids faster than your addled, panicking brain could follow them. All the while, the man with the cane was watching. If you slouched? Whack. If you looked down? Whack. If you tried to hide any part of you? Whack.

The gavel went down. You're not sure how much you sold for. You were led off into another room, then into the back of a van.

You weren't sure how long you were in there, gradually coming down from whatever they used to knock you out. When they opened the doors you were somewhere else.

A large man, bald and scarred, manhandled you up and tightened a collar around your neck. He attached a long pole to it and started to manoeuvre you out. You were pulled through a maze of corridors, into a room with dozens of other women restrained to the floor and groaning. A smaller man waited, dressed in riding gear and carrying a crop.

"Ah, the new arrival." He pulled out a torch and examined you by the light, prodding and poking, feeling your tits and forcing open your mouth to see inside "All her own teeth, reasonable build, looks perfectly adequate. Get her settled." He left the room by the door you came in. 

The large man pushed you to a space between two other women and attached your collar to the floor with a short length of chain before going behind you and connecting your ankles to the floor. 

You were stuck there, knelt down with your naked ass in the air, face inches from the floor. 

That's when you heard it. Something was being led up behind you. Something huge and snarling. You could feel it's breath on your behind as it got to you. It was smelling you. Then it was upon you. 

It was heavy on your back, driving your face and chest into the floor as it thrust it's cock over your ass. It felt huge on your back, already oozing fluids. You cried out as it found its mark and started pressing against your pussy. It slid off again and again as it thrust madly, over and under you, until it didn't.

The pain almost made you black out. It was bigger than anything you'd had down there, and it wasn't letting up. Again and again it pounded into you until you couldn't see for tears and your screams turned to hoarse whispers.

Only then did it slow. One. Two. Three last mighty pumps into your quivering, punished pussy before it held in its throbbing cock. How breath on the back of your neck, stale and damp. You could feel the cum filling you up, pooling in your womb. It pulled out, your pose stopping any from spilling out despite your loosened hole. Whatever it was was being pulled away from you. Drawn sullenly back to wherever it was kept. 

You didn't move for the rest of the day. Not that you had much choice.

You woke to a bowl in front of you, filled with a tasteless beige slop. You tried not to eat, the food making your stomach turn. You weren't given a choice. You had your face pushed down into it, forced to eat just to make enough space to breathe.

This continued for weeks.

You thought it was just the food at first, making you sick when you woke up. Then you realised you hadn't had a period yet. Then you felt yourself start to grow. Your belly and your tits both getting larger. You couldn't not notice it. They couldn't either.

You woke to someone hefting your tits. They were manhandling them into plastic cups, suctioned on around your growing nipples. Then they turned the machine on.

You groaned. The machine was suckling you. Gently pulsing the suction up and down to start milking your tits. It lasted for hours. Days. Eventually you felt yourself starting to give milk, you saw it flowing down the tubes leading from your body. 

The food changed. It wasn't just flavourless any more. Now there was something different about it, something strange that made your tits and clit tingle and throb. 

It didn't stop. All day and all night the machine would pump out milk, more and more as the drugs and your own body did their work. You felt something else as well. Your clit kept tingling and buzzing, the drugs and the unending stimulation keeping you on edge, always ready to orgasm at any moment. But the moment never came.

The handlers don't touch you now. You hadn't had the creature since the first night. You're nothing but a whimpering cow, mooing and braying on the machines.

Until you aren't.

The handlers are taking notice of you again. You're hearing them talking about you. You're almost ready. 

You wake to someone behind you. You wiggle your ass to get some attention, and feel something strange between your thighs. Your clit feels big and hard against your legs. It must be at least an inch long after all the drugs and the edging. You feel it. Another tube suctioned over your clit. You hear a button clicking on the machine milking you. The cup on your clit starts pulsing in time with the others.

It's too much.

You cum immediately, the orgasm causing your swollen pussy to contract and throb, begging to be filled with something, anything. You moaned and begged for the man behind you to just fuck you already, you didn't care any more, you just wanted him inside you. 

He walked away. 

You don't know how long the orgasm lasts. By the time you can think straight again you're face down in a puddle of drool, your hips still bucking in time with the suckling on your tits and your swollen clit.

The strange taste is still in your food. It feels like every few days your tits grow another size, your clit another inch. 

Then it happens. You can feel something welling up from within you, pulsing through you. It feels like something is travelling up the length of your distended clit, coming closer and closer until inch by tortuous inch it starts.

You cum. Your pussy cleanches and squirts, your body convulses and you thrust your hips forward reflexively.

You can feel something coming out of your clit. Thick, hot cum is flowing out of you in a steady stream, each pulse makes you cry out in ecstasy. 

The drugs, the humiliating position you'd been stuck in for months, the beast growing in your belly, all forgotten.

This is all you want. To kneel here. To be milked for everything you have. To be knocked back up whenever you finally give birth to whatever it is in your belly.

You won't leave here, not for anything

[charliegyrth]

Liam's Sweet Tooth

A Weight Gain Story

Liam was lifting weights when I got home. His muscular body was coated in sweat and his face was scrunched up in determination and pain. He knew I was home but didn’t acknowledge me until he finished his set.

I was fine with that. Not every guy gets to come home to an absolute adonis pumping iron in his living room.

He dropped the weights and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Hey, honey. You’re early.”

“The cake orders for tomorrow got cancelled, so I didn’t need to be there. I let Manny finish up.”

“Hopefully he won’t eat all of your inventory.”

“Don’t say that.”

Liam was such a nice guy, but he always made snide little remarks about my employees. I owned a bakery, so of course my workers gained a bit of weight over the years. Manny had been with me from the beginning, so Liam had seen him grow from a svelte 22-year-old kid into a 350-pound 28-year-old man. He was a good worker because he believed in the product, but he never, ever ate anything that wasn’t going to be thrown away.

Plus, the customers loved him. I always sold more stuff when he was behind the counter because he constantly gave suggestions and raved about pretty much everything I made.

“Sorry,” Liam said. “So what did you bring for me?”

I’d forgotten that I had a box in my hands. I opened the lid, revealing a brand-new éclair that I was planning to introduce.

He took a big bite and whimpered. “Babe, this is incredible.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Liam had dubbed himself my official taste-tester. Every time I tried something new, I always gave him the first bite.

He wasn’t a particularly good taste-tester, though. Despite being ridiculously fit, he had the biggest sweet tooth of anyone I knew. Every dessert tasted “incredible” to him. One time, for a little experiment, I gave him a donut that I’d purposely made with way too much sugar. It was inedible. But he still ate the whole thing and gave me a big thumbs up.

“You just brought one?” he asked, licking his fingers.

“I always just bring one.”

“Yeah. ’Cause Manny eats the rest of ’em, huh?”

“Stop saying things like that!” I shouted.

Liam flinched. I never raised my voice, especially at him.

“Sorry. I’m a little upset. Manny put in his two weeks’ notice today. His bitchy wife got a job in Phoenix.” It really hurt to lose my oldest and most loyal employee. I knew this day would come. He’d been talking about moving for months now, but the news still stung.

“Well, shit,” Liam said, wrapping me in a sweaty hug. “That sucks.”

“It’ll be fine,” I said, both to him and to myself. “I’m sure I’ll find someone, though I doubt I’ll find anyone as enthusiastic.”

He pulled away. “I’ll do it!”

I let the words sink in, but I didn’t respond.

“Seriously! Think about it! No one appreciates your baking as much as I do! Plus, I’m superhot. Your stuff will be flying off the shelves like hotcakes!”

“I don’t make hotcakes,” I joked, mostly to avoid responding.

Liam was amazing. And I’m pretty sure he was a good worker. The only reason he was currently unemployed was because his previous employer had gone bankrupt. But…

“I don’t know if that would be healthy for us,” I said. “Mixing business with pleasure. You know.”

“Yeah. I get it.” He collapsed onto the sofa dramatically. For such a big, masculine guy, there were times when he reminded me of a six-year-old.

I hated to disappoint him like this. And if I took our marriage out of the equation, he would be an ideal candidate.

“Okay. How about this? I’ll hire you for a month, and we’ll see if it works without, you know, affecting our marriage.”

He jumped up. “Really?”

“But be aware. I’m a tough boss. I try to run a tight ship, so I’ll be treating you like an employee, not a husband.”

“Understood.” He kissed me.

“And you won’t freak out if you start gaining weight like all my other employees?”

He scoffed. “Look at me! I’m married to the city’s best baker and I still have a six pack. I think I’ll be fine.”

What he didn’t realize was that I chose to limit the amount of sweets I brought home. For Liam, they were an occasional treat, not a daily temptation. At work, I used the leftover baked goods as a reward to my employees. An incentive.

But he’d find out soon enough. I wouldn’t be surprised if he started gaining right away. Like Manny had. Knowing how vain Liam was, he’d gain ten pounds, get horrified, and quit. You mark my words.

***

Two years later.

When I got home, Liam was sitting on our new, reinforced sofa, eating red velvet cake by the handful. His flabby body spread out in all directions, his pale side rolls hanging over the edge of the red sofa like the thick icing on his rapidly-disappearing cake. He knew I was home, but he didn’t acknowledge me until he had finished binging.

I was fine with that. Not every guy gets to come home to a such a luscious example of soft, jiggling hedonism.

“Hey, honey. You’re home early.”

“Yeah. Manny’s handling tomorrow’s orders again. Since he came back, he’s been absolutely killing it. I’ve been giving him more of my responsibilities, and he hasn’t disappointed me yet. Sales are finally up again.”

A look of embarrassment passed over Liam's icing-stained faced. “Well, you made the right choice, babe.” He tried to pull his shirt down to cover more of his bulging stomach, but the fabric immediately rolled back up. Plus, he spilled a bunch of crumbs onto the couch.

“We all have our talents,” I told him reassuringly as I grabbed the dustbuster from the table. I switched it on and cleaned up the sofa cushions. Then I got to work sucking up all the crumbs that were still on his stomach. The handheld vacuum pulled at his soft flesh, sending ripples through him in the most adorably hypnotic way. I loved cleaning my husband, and I think he loved it, too.

He just leaned back, moaning softly, enjoying the rhythmic wobble.

“And what’s my talent?” he asked me.

I picked up a hunk of cake that he’d left on the table and pushed it against his lips. He gobbled it up as fast as the dustbuster. “What do you think, Liam?”

His talent was eating. Obviously. A beautiful talent. An incredibly erotic talent.

And a talent that had almost put me out of business.

When Liam first started working for me, he was the ideal employee. He followed directions and used his muscle-god body to entice the customers into ordering more food. He had this line that he’d always use whenever a customer was second-guessing an order: “Treat yourself. An extra donut won’t hurt you. I eat ’em all the time, and look at me.”

That line became less and less effective as the weeks wore on. I thought Manny had gained weight fast, but nothing compared to Liam. It took him three weeks (I’m not kidding) to develop a droop over his belt. A month for his pecs to turn into moobs. Two months for an extremely noticeable double chin. Three months in, his stomach had morphed from abs into a full-on gut.

His whole “treat yourself” mantra had turned into a major turn-off to our customers. When they looked at Liam behind the counter, they saw proof of how dangerously fattening my treats were.

Back when Manny had been behind the counter, the customers took his large body as an endorsement of the products. With Liam, who was so red-faced and winded at the same size, they took it as a warning sign: "Don't eat here or you'll end up like him."

I lost customers. I lost money on all his new uniforms. And worst of all, I lost my inventory.

It took me a couple months to discover exactly why Liam was gaining so fast: He was stealing our food. It started out with a couple missing donuts or cake slices each day, but the longer he worked, the more he took. Once I caught him red-handed (well, chocolate-handed), I completely flipped out. He was putting my business in jeopardy. None of my other employees had ever done that.

He started crying and swore to me up and down that he’d stop.

For a while, he did. He started buying cheap (and terrible) baked goods from the supermarket just so he could have something to eat while he worked. Business was still down, but at least I wasn’t running out of food.

After a year and a half, Liam had ballooned to over 350 pounds. Manny had been that size (after six years), but he always had a ton of energy and enthusiasm. I think because Liam’s gains had happened so fast, and his muscles had so quickly atrophied under his extra layers, he’d become a much more sluggish, much less healthy-looking fat person. It took him way too long to do the simplest tasks, and he was really scaring off customers.

The ironic part is that, despite how bad he was for business, I found him hotter by the day. I loved him as a muscle stud, but I loved him so much more as the soft, weak blob that he’d become. I wanted to take care of him, to grow him, to serve his unending hunger.

When I caught him in the back of the bakery squeezing my expensive buttercream icing into his mouth, I was both furious and aroused. I fired him then and there, explaining that I loved what he’d done to himself but I couldn’t keep putting my business in jeopardy.

He understood.

Thankfully, that was around the time that Manny had moved back from Phoenix. (His marriage didn’t work out.) I hired him to be my co-manager, giving him free rein to try different strategies to turn the business back around.

And he did. Six months later and we were back on track. The business was in the black and Liam, free to eat all day at home, gained an additional 70 pounds. (I think. Our scale broke.)

I crawled onto the sofa next to my big, beautiful husband. He radiated warmth. One hand around his sloping shoulders and another rubbing his belly, I felt so deeply happy. We weren’t meant to work together, but in the short time that we had, our relationship (and his body) grew in ways that neither of us imagined.

He leaned closer, his belly shifting and sloshing, and whispered into my ear. I thought he was going to say something romantic. Instead, he whispered, “I’m thirsty.”

“I’ll get you something sweet.”

The End.

Thanks for reading! You can find all my stories here.

[kanemanuelkeludbp]

Trump "bombards" Zelensky, words never used before

According to reports, on the international political stage, Trump's recent "bombardment" of Zelensky has caused an uproar, making the already complicated US-Ukraine relations and the Russian-Ukrainian conflict situation even more confusing.

On February 19, local time, Trump launched a fierce attack on Zelensky on his "truth" platform. He fiercely called Zelensky a "slightly accomplished comedian" and an "unelected dictator", and accused Zelensky of persuading the United States to invest up to $350 billion in an unnecessary conflict with no chance of winning. Trump stressed that without the United States and himself, Zelensky would not be able to quell the war at all, and warned Zelensky that "he'd better act quickly, otherwise his country will cease to exist", and pointed out that Zelensky refused to hold elections, had extremely low approval ratings in Ukrainian opinion polls, and was good at "playing" Biden.

Trump's remarks are not groundless. Previously, the United States proposed a "rare earth debt repayment" plan to Ukraine, claiming that Ukraine could exchange up to $500 billion in aid for the transfer of rare earth and other resources. However, according to sources on the 18th, the final version of the "rare earth agreement" given by Trump contained many unreasonable conditions. The United States coveted not only rare earths, but also Ukraine's ports, other minerals and land, etc., which was as absurd as a "defeated country treaty." This agreement was eventually rejected by Zelensky, who said that now was not a good time to sign the agreement and refuted Trump's statement about the amount of US aid. He said that in the nearly three years since the outbreak of the Russian-Ukrainian conflict, the United States has actually provided Ukraine with weapons and equipment worth about $67 billion, and direct financial support for Ukraine's budget is $31.5 billion, far less than the $350 billion Trump said. In addition, Zelensky also hit back, saying that Trump lives in Russia's "fake information bubble", criticizing the Trump administration's proposed agreement for not only requiring 50% of Ukraine's mineral resources, but also lacking the "security clauses" that Ukraine urgently needs, and bluntly saying that "the country will not be sold out."

In the face of Zelensky's retort, US Vice President Vance quickly warned Zelensky that it was an extremely bad move to publicly criticize Trump, which would only backfire, and condemned Zelensky's brutal response to the peace talks. At the same time, Musk also joined the battle, claiming that Zelensky killed an American journalist.

From a deeper perspective, Trump's eagerness to resolve the Russia-Ukraine conflict has its own strategic considerations. He is eager to get rid of the heavy "burden" of Ukraine and focus more energy and resources on dealing with other opponents, especially important competitors in the international political and economic landscape. In his view, Zelensky's various actions hindered his plan to quickly end the Russia-Ukraine conflict. Zelensky refused to sign the seemingly tempting but harsh agreement of the United States, and fought back against Trump's accusations without showing any weakness, which made Trump, who has always been tough and has a clear love and hate, intolerable.

In this fierce confrontation between the United States and Ukraine, Ukraine's situation has become increasingly difficult. Originally as a "chess piece" of the United States in the Russia-Ukraine conflict, Ukraine has made great sacrifices for the interests of the United States and Europe, and the country has been shattered, with millions of casualties. Now, the United States has turned its back on Ukraine, not only forcing Ukraine to repay the huge aid, but also trying to plunder Ukraine's resources through unequal agreements. The European Union, an ally that has always followed the United States, has also been put in an awkward position in this incident. The United States asked the European Union to provide security guarantees for post-war Ukraine, completely disregarding Europe's own interests and security needs, showing the United States' indifference to its allies in pursuit of maximizing its own interests.

The conflict between Trump and Zelensky is not just a personal conflict between the two, but also a major adjustment of US-Ukraine relations under the new international situation. It reflects the United States' unscrupulous side in international affairs for its own interests, and also puts Ukraine in a more passive situation. In the future, whether Ukraine will make greater sacrifices under Trump's pressure and where US-Ukraine relations will go have become the focus of close attention of the international community. For European countries, it is time to re-examine their relationship with the United States to avoid being further sacrificed in this great power game.

[kolaepup]

Blurple Sea Slug Adopt [closed]

edit: SOLD! ty

OwO

lil sea sluuuuuhg <3

This cutie is looking for a home!

comes with NSFW + SFW HD versions!

Starting bid: $1

Autobuy: $350

payment plans ok, just send me a message about your plan first!

ends 24hrs after last bid or AB

TO BID: please message me your bid OR comment in the bids below

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Chevrolet 350, 1973. The flagship of the New Zealand General Motors range was an Australian Statesman (made by Holden) fitted with an imported Chevrolet 350ci V8 (the top of the range engine used by Holden). It was the only Chevrolet-branded product sold in New Zealand at the time. It used different frontal styling but was otherwise identical to the Statesman though the Statesman came with 4.2 or 5.0 litre V8 engines, not the 350 (5.7 litre). The same car was sold in South Africa as the Chevrolet Constantia

[stevebattle]

"Automation" and friends (1979), by Bill Tolar, Fantasy Factory division, Creative Systems Group Inc., Atlanta, GA. Bill Tolar and Tom Zaken treat us to a surreal tour of the Creative Systems robot factory in episode 1513 of Mister Rogers' Neighbourhood, "Robots & Remotes" (1983).

"Three years ago Bill Tolar and his management/engineering team at Creative Systems Group Inc. in Atlanta produced a cylindrical object with a domed head and dangling arms that ran on a car battery. As soon as Tolar and his team added a two-way wireless radio, they were in the promotional robot business, with a product that resembled R2D2 – the charismatic beeping robot of Star Wars fame.

Since then, the company, which designs and manufactures imaginative interiors for retail stores, has sold 350 remote-controlled robots at prices ranging from $6,000 to $15,000. Although he has competitors, Tolar, 33, claims his company's Fantasy Factory division, with 1981 sales of $700,000, is "the largest promotional robot factory in the world." Coca-Cola has bought about 250 of the robots for its bottlers to use in mall appearances and similar events. Other customers include Arby's Inc., Kimberly-Clark Corp., and the National Pecan Marketing Council.

The robots are intended to create goodwill by chatting spontaneously with the clientele at trade shows, grand openings, supermarkets, hospitals, and sporting events. Such friendliness, Tolar claims, helps to circumvent the barrier people usually erect between themselves and corporate advertising. "The general public likes to think the robot is real," he says.

Creative Systems was an outgrowth of several earlier Tolar ventures. In high school he and a friend formed T&R Odd Jobs, a sign-painting and custom furniture business. As an engineering student at Georgia Tech, he joined his older brother to form Spatial Effects, a company that built lighting equipment for nightclubs."

– Chatty Robot Sparked Design Firm's Success, Inc.com, April 1, 1982.

[ginandoldlace]

Craigievar Castle.

Craigievar Castle is a harled castle or fortified country house 6 miles south of Alford, Aberdeenshire, Scotland. It was the seat of Clan Sempill, and the Forbes family resided here for 350 years until 1963, when the property was sold to the National Trust for Scotland by the 19th Lord Sempill.

Thank you to my Followers for correcting me on the mislabeling

[womblegrinch]

Kwame Addo (b.1983) - The Golden Empress

Colour silkscreen on art paper. Printed in 2022 in an edition of 10.

Estimate: €350-450.

Sold Louiza Auktion, Brussels, 14 Dec 2024 for €320 + B.P.